Part 3

"For a few minutes Porcupine Killer stood just outside the mouth of his cave and gazed at the wonderful sight with awe. The first thin darkness was creeping over the world, and in the gloom the flames and sparks and smoke made a terrible picture for eyes that had never seen such a thing before. But the little chill of fear quickly left his heart as soon as he began to reason with his brain. This creature--one moment so small, and suddenly so great--was his friend and the friend of all mankind. It was a wonderful gift that had been given to him in a beautiful dream. So he ran forward and stood as close to the fire as he could. The heat of it was very great--and the roaring of the flames and the crackling of the dry wood was loud in his ears. He knew that many eyes must now be staring at the great sight in fear and astonishment and wonder--eyes of his fierce enemies and eyes of his hunted, starving people. Many caves were in the same rocky hillside as his own. With his back to the noise and the leaping flames, he stood tall and brave against the terrible red light and waved his arms high above his head.

"'Come to me, my people!' he cried, with all the strength of his voice. 'Come to me, and this magic thing will protect you from your enemies.'

"Broken Arrow was the first to find courage to leave his cave and draw near to the fire. He was closely followed by Winter Morning, the chief. Porcupine Killer told them in a few words of his dream and how he had made the fire in his cave; of its comforting warmth; of its sting; and how the animals feared the sight of it. Soon a dozen men and boys stood near the blazing tree.

"'Now is the time to hunt for food,' said Porcupine Killer. 'Do not go beyond the edge of the red light.'

"They found the body of a huge caribou, freshly killed by the wolves and but half eaten. They cut the flesh from it with their stone knives and axes, and carried it to their caves. Porcupine Killer worked with the others and carried two great lumps of meat to his cave; but he kept his eye on the burning tree. He soon noticed that it was quickly lessening in size and heat. All the branches were gone and the great trunk alone glowed on the rocky ground. Flames and sparks still shot up from it in places, and here and there it had crumbled to masses of red coals. Dark night had fallen by now, and the light from the fire was drawing in, narrower and narrower, every minute. By the failing glow of it, Porcupine-Killer gathered a great many pieces of wood-roots and fallen branches and stumps, and heaped them close beside the mouth of his cave. He told Broken Arrow (who was a clever young warrior) and old Winter Morning, the chief, how fire could be kept inside one's cave and fed with sticks; and he lighted two long branches at the glowing coals and gave one into the hands of each. Many of the other men, seeing this and hearing Porcupine Killer's words, lit sticks for themselves and ran back to their caves, waving them in the air.

"It was quite dark, and the great beasts were roaring and howling and barking on all sides, when the first man who had ever made fire in this part of the world returned to his cave.

"He found the fire burning very low,--just a bed of coals,--for the woman was afraid to feed it with sticks. He soon had it blazing brightly; and then, sitting very close to it, he began to cut one of the big lumps of caribou meat into small pieces, so that he and his wife might eat after their long hunger. One of the pieces fell close to the red coals at the edge of the fire. He did not notice it, but soon he began to sniff and look about on every side.

"'What is that queer smell?' he asked. 'It is a smell that increases my hunger. What new thing have you in the cave?'

"The squaw told him that there was nothing new in the cave except the fire and the caribou meat. But she, too, noticed the smell and began to sniff and sniff. Her husband (who had not the baby to hold) was so attracted by the strange smell that he laid aside the flint knife and the big lump of meat and went sniffing around the cave, as a hungry dog sniffs around the outside of a store-house. But he was soon back at the fire again, where the smell was much stronger than anywhere else; and then he happened to see the small piece of meat that had fallen close to the red coals. Its color had changed. It was red no longer, but brown as a ripe nut; and from it floated up the smell that made him feel even more hungry than he had felt before. He touched it with his finger. It was very hot, so of course he stuck his finger in his mouth. Hah, but it tasted good! He had never really liked the taste of flesh before, but had always eaten it quickly, in big mouthfuls, simply to fill his stomach; but this piece, that had been turned from red to brown by the fire, had a taste to it that made him think of eating with joy. With a small stick he drew it away from the hot coals, and soon the sting of the fire went out of it and he could hold it in his hands without feeling any pain. He cut it in two with his flint knife and gave one half to his wife. And they were the first people to eat roasted caribou meat that I ever heard of! They liked it so well that they cut many more slices and placed them close to the red coals of the fire; and the good, hunger-making smell floated out of the cave and set all sorts of animals to sniffing and howling. They liked the strange smell, too (though they never learned to like it as well as the smell of raw meat); but they were afraid to go near the cave in the rocky hill-side from which the smell came, for out of that same cave shone the red glare of that terrible thing which had eaten up the dead spruce tree. They saw the same red glare at the mouths of other caves and what was left of the spruce tree still glowing angrily in the dark; so they crouched in a great circle and howled and roared."

Old Squat-by-the-fire stopped her talk suddenly, and began cutting tobacco for her pipe. Little Flying Plover sat very still, gazing into the fire. He could see all sorts of queer things under the dancing flames, deep among the red coals--lodges, and hunters running beside dog-sledges, and warriors fighting mighty battles.

"Why were the animals afraid of the fire?" he asked.

"It was their nature to fear it," replied his grandmother.

"Why didn't it frighten the men, too?" asked the boy.

Squat-by-the-fire wrinkled her forehead and puffed hard at her pipe, but did not answer. Flying Plover waited for a minute, and then asked, "Are animals afraid of fire now?"

His grandmother nodded her head.

"But dogs are not afraid of it. Dogs like to lie by the fire, all day and all night," said the boy.

"Dogs were not always fond of fire. When they were wild--before they had been tamed by man--they did not like it at all," replied the old woman.

She puffed very fiercely at her pipe. "But you must not ask me any more questions now," she said. "I must boil the medicine for Red Cloud's baby again. It is a very great medicine and has to be boiled five times, in all, and let cool after each boiling. So you must not disturb me, little son of a chief. Carve at your caribou again, if the snow is still falling, and I will tell you another story to-night, if you are a good boy."

VI

WHY OLD KING WALRUS WENT AWAY FROM THE MOUNTAINEERS' COUNTRY

Flying Plover was a good boy. He carved at the stubborn block of wood until it looked quite unlike a block of wood and had four legs, like a caribou. Then he whittled away at two arrows, and mended one of his snowshoes. He did not once disturb his grandmother at her medicine-making; so after the evening meal the old woman said that, as he had behaved himself so well and worked so busily, she would tell him another story.

"I want to know why all the animals are smaller now than they used to be," said the boy. "I want to know how that happened and when--and who did it."

"Easy, easy!" cried Squat-by-the-fire. "You go too fast with your 'want to know this' and your 'want to know that.' Stories are not told by the answering of questions. You will hear about the changing of the animals later--but to-night I am going to tell you why old King Walrus went back to his own country."

She scratched her head, and stared very hard at the fire, as if she found a good deal of difficulty in remembering the facts. And that is not to be wondered at, considering how long ago it was that King Walrus went away from Labrador, and how many queer things had happened since then. Little Flying Plover often wondered at the way his grandmother remembered those very ancient happenings, and yet sometimes forgot little things that he could remember perfectly clearly. Well, she scratched her head, and stared at the fire--and, presently, she remembered.

"When King Walrus heard about the strange thing in front of the two-legged people's hillside," she said, "he floundered to the top of a near-by hummock and looked at it in wonder and with a queer feeling inside him. The queer feeling was fear--and King Walrus had never felt it before. He looked at the leaping flames and wondered if the sky had broken and the red sunset had fallen on the world. He looked at the smoke which poured up in black clouds and white clouds and blue clouds; and he thought that they, too, had fallen from the sky and were now hurrying back to it. And the sparks? Why, the stupid old fellow thought those were stars. His people--the smaller walruses and bears and arctic foxes that had followed him from the ice-fields--told him that the terrible creature was eating a tree just as they would eat a fresh cod-fish. They told him to listen, and they would hear it growling and cracking the dry wood with its red teeth. The old Walrus listened, and sure enough, he heard those terrible sounds. So it was certainly not the sky. 'I hope it will not stay in this country,' he said. 'Where did it come from?'

"A fox said 'One of the man-creatures carried it out to the dead tree from his den. It was very small at first--no bigger than my tongue--and danced on the end of a long stick. But it was frightful to look at, even then.'

"'Why did you not jump upon it, and kill it, when it was so small?' asked old King Walrus. But he did not speak in his usual loud voice.

"'I had not the courage,' said the fox. 'And I saw some animals, who are much larger and stronger than I am, turn around and run away, too,' he added.

"Old blubber-sides could not think of anything just then but the roaring fire in the valley below. Though he had believed, at first, that it was a piece of the red, sunset sky, now that he could hear it growling and biting the wood with its teeth, he felt sure that it was some terrible, new animal that would want to fight him as soon as it had finished eating the tree. But what had it been doing in the den of one of the little, miserable, two-legged men-folk? He lay there on the hummock and stared and stared, expecting, every moment, to see it move toward him.

"Then the fox who had spoken before said, 'The same man who put it in the branches of the tree has another creature of the same kind in his den. I smelt it--and I saw its breath rising through a crack in the rocks.'

"For a moment King Walrus turned his great head from the direction of the blazing tree and looked at the fox. 'Go down and examine it closely, and see if it has any legs,' he said. For a few seconds the fox did not know what to do or say, and felt very foolish. He was afraid of King Walrus--but he was much more afraid of the awful, new thing down in the valley. But his wits soon came back to him. He told the walrus that, of course, he would gladly obey his command; and he immediately started off at a brisk trot toward the burning tree. He kept on in that direction for about a hundred yards, and then, reaching a thicket of alders, he skipped in among the twisted stems, changed his course, and ran for fully a mile in a great half-circle. That brought him out on a hilltop at a safe distance from both the fire and the walrus, and yet in sight of both. Then he sat down comfortably to see what would happen.

"Well, as the wood burned away, and fell to coals and ashes, the great fire in the valley became smaller and smaller. Night grew dark over all the wilderness, save where the sparks broke from the bursting timber and the mouths of several of the men-folk's caves shone red with the little fires within.

"'See, it gets smaller and smaller, every minute,' said King Walrus to his people. It is but a poor creature, after all, and will soon be dead. It is nothing but some foolish little magic of the miserable two-legged people.'

"Then a wolf said, 'Yes, it may die, but I think it has cubs in every one of the frightened people's dens. And they will grow, quick as water running over a stone, and they, too, may have many cubs.'

"At last the flames ceased to dance at all on the ashes of the dead spruce tree, and the watching animals could see only a few red spots here and there. Hours went by, and still they sat on every hilltop overlooking the valley, howling and snarling and roaring, and staring with their wide, yellow eyes. At last they could see no sign of life at all in the fire. Then they shouted, one to another, that the terrible creature was dead; and a number of the bravest of them--three walruses, and several bears and wolves--stole down to see what kind of a dinner the body would make. That is what they were always thinking about everything--how it would feel in their stomachs.

On the way down to the valley, a bear and a walrus pushed against each other and immediately began to fight. Soon the smell of blood was strong in the air, and all the animals that had started down to try to eat the dead body of the fire tried to eat one another instead. Two great bears, with their claws and their teeth deep in each other's hides, went rolling down a steep side of a hill straight into the coals and ashes of the spruce tree. Of course the fire was not dead! There was a great bed of hot, red coals under the ashes. Little flames sprang up around the bodies of the fighting bears, and began to eat the long, thick coats of fur. The bears felt the awful stings, and quickly let go of each other and scrambled to their feet. Their backs and sides were smarting and their noses and paws were terribly blistered. They saw the red and yellow coals all about them, blinking and shining like the eyes of wicked devils--and their hearts melted with fear. Away they ran, howling and roaring, with the flames leaping high on their backs. It was a frightful sight. The animals that saw it, all dashed away to their dens, fearing that the dreadful red creatures might chase them and spring upon their backs as they had sprung upon the backs of the fighting bears. Even old King Walrus went heaving and lumbering away, and hid between two hummocks of rock. As for the unfortunate bears who had rolled into the fire, they ran straight ahead, without caring or seeing or thinking where they were running to. They were blind with terror and mad with pain. They ran and ran until at last one of them fell into Beaver River and the other into Black Fox Pond. Of course the water killed the fire on their backs and sides, but for a long time they just swam around and around in the cold water. At last, though they still smarted and ached all over, they knew that the terrible creatures had gone away from them. So they swam ashore--one to the bank of the river and one to the bank of the pond--and ran seaward as hard as they could. All they thought about was the quickest way of getting out of that terrible country.

"Now it happened that Porcupine Killer and the other men of the tribe knew nothing about the trouble of the two bears and the fright which all the other animals had received. If they had known they would have felt very happy. They had heard more howls and yells and roars than usual, but did not know what the trouble was. When Porcupine Killer awoke he fed the coals of his fire with sticks of dry wood, and broiled several slices of caribou meat for breakfast. He was very merry, and could not help singing when he thought of how life had changed since the morning before. Now he and his wife and baby, and nearly every one in the tribe, had food to eat, and a warmth like sunlight in their caves, and a friend that struck terror to the hearts of the fierce animals. His wife awoke at the noise of his song (for he was not a very fine singer) and she, too, was happy as soon as the fog of sleep had passed from her mind and she remembered the wonderful thing that had happened. After they had eaten, Porcupine Killer said, 'I am going out to frighten the animals again--and to-day they shall be frightened more than they were yesterday. This wonderful thing that dances and whispers so peacefully on the floor of our cave is greater than all the fangs and claws and tusks of all the animals in the world. And it is my friend--the friend of the tribe. I shall hunt old King Walrus himself, and cause him to repent of the evil he has done.'

"The woman begged him not to be rash. The giant animals had ruled the country so long, and hunted men as men hunt hares and foxes now, that she could not believe that anything was stronger than the animals. But Porcupine Killer had no fear, since he had seen the power of the fire. He looked out of the mouth of the cave, and saw the ashes of the fire lying black and gray on the rocky ground. He looked all around the sides of the valley, lying quiet in the brightness of the autumn morning, and could not see so much as a skulking fox. He crawled out and looked to the right and left, at the holes in the rocky hillside where so many of his own people lived. He saw little wisps of smoke rising here and there from among the boulders and from the mouths of some of the caves. He shouted for the hidden warriors to come out. Winter Morning, the chief, and Broken Arrow were the first to appear. Porcupine Killer called to them that he was going on a great hunt, and that they should see wonderful things happen before the sun had reached the top of the sky.

"'We saw many wonders yesterday, great Magician,' said Winter Morning. 'What new wonders will you show us to-day?'

"'I am not a magician,' replied Porcupine Killer, who was an honest young man. 'But the wonder you shall see to-day will be the hunting of the fierce animals that have hunted us since the beginning of time.'

"Six warriors joined Porcupine Killer in front of his cave. They looked at every hill and wood and rock, but could not see one of their enemies. 'We are the masters of the world,' said Porcupine Killer. He took a burning stick in his hand, from his own fire, and led the warriors to the other side of the little valley. They passed the long heap of dead ashes and coals, where the tree had burned the night before. The ashes were still warm, and deep in the middle of the mass a few coals were still alive. At the far side of the valley they threw together a great heap of dry bushes and moss and fallen logs. To this Porcupine Killer set a flame from the torch in his hand; and in a minute it was crackling and breathing and blazing, and lifting clouds of black smoke into the air. Then each warrior took a blazing stick from the heap, and again Porcupine Killer led them forward. They had not gone far before two wolves sprang from a grove of spruces in front of them and went galloping away. At that, the warriors shouted and laughed, and waved their blazing sticks. It made them feel great and brave to see the very same beasts that were in the habit of hunting them turn tail and run at the sight of them. They went up to the top of the hill and there built another fire in a rocky place. And so they moved forward over hills and hummocks and barrens, and through patches of dark forest, sending all manner of animals fleeing before them. Here and there they built and lit new fires, to protect their homeward trail; but Porcupine Killer chose the places for these fires with great care. 'It does not eat rocks,' he said. So all the fires were made on rocky places, away from trees and bushes. Porcupine Killer had a thought in the back of his head that it would not be wise for all the forests in the country to be devoured by this wonderful new creature.

"At last the warriors came upon old King Walrus himself, lying sound asleep in a narrow valley between two small hills. He was all alone, for his followers had deserted him during the night. Porcupine Killer made a sign to his companions to be very quiet. They hid along the crest of one of the hills, above the great, round back of King Walrus. Then Porcupine Killer gathered a huge armful of dry moss and twigs, set it alight with his torch, and threw it down upon the walrus's back. Then, standing on a high rock and waving his torch so that the smoke and sparks flew thick and fast, he shouted, 'Wake up, old blubbersides, and return to your own country! Wake up and see the Red Spirit sitting on your back!'

"Through his heavy, troubled dreams old King Walrus heard the voice and felt a horrible sting in his fat back. He lifted his huge head and cast one glance at Porcupine Killer and the flaming stick. He felt the teeth of the terrible red creature, and knew that it had caught him in his sleep. With a bellow of terror that nearly deafened the hidden warriors, he floundered out of the valley and travelled seaward as fast as he could go."

Squat-by-the-fire puffed hard at her pipe, and stared into the fire.

"Did he get home?" asked Flying Plover.

"Yes. He reached the sea, and dashed into the deep water, and swam straight home to his lands of ice and snow," replied the old woman.

"And what did Porcupine Killer do?" asked the little boy.

"He went home, too, and cooked a fine caribou steak for his dinner."

"Did all the animals run out of the country?"

"No. In time they lost some of their fear of the fire. But they were always afraid to go very close to it."

"When were the animals made as small as they are now?"

"That belongs to another story. If I tell you any more now, my brain will split and the skin will come off my throat again," replied the old woman.

VII

ANOTHER STORY OF GLUSKAP AND HIS PEOPLE